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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901516">Stork</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka'>yeaka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Kid Fic, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:40:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>748</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil’s a stellar parent.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stork</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Galion’s never been particularly partial to children, but of course, he does his best: when his king orders him to tend to the young prince, Galion drops everything. He dutifully trails Legolas around, oversees the preparation of Legolas’ meals, keeps Legolas out of the rain as much as possible, and answers most of Legolas’ burning questions. Then Legolas asks something that gives Galion pause, because while he knows the correct answer, he’s not certain what his king would have him say. Serving Thranduil is, after all, Galion’s top priority.</p><p>He usually tries to provide that service unobtrusively—he knows how much Thranduil hates to be disturbed over minor details. He can only hope Prince Legolas is an exception. For the sake of Legolas’ education, Galion takes the tiny elfling’s infinitesimally small hand and guides him along the winding path towards his father’s throne. Thranduil sits in the very heart of the massive chamber, a telltale wineglass in his hand and his royal staff loosely gripped inside the other. Galion has been sure to come between appointments, though he still bows low to the floor when he reaches the raised dais, and he murmurs, “My apologizes, my lord.”</p><p>Thranduil lifts one imposing brow, thick and dark in stark contrast to the white-gold hair that spills down his broad shoulders. His current crown is the autumn variety, twisted with many woven branches, every bit as beautiful as the flower-laden one of spring. He’s as impressive a sight as ever: truly worthy of his position. When Thranduil neither forgives nor condemns him, Galion clears his throat and humbly explains, “Prince Legolas has a question to ask his father.”</p><p>A heavy sigh rumbles out of Thranduil’s lips. He drawls, “Very well.” The many rings along his fingers glisten as he gestures with his hand. He looks down at Legolas expectantly. Legolas draws up to his full height—barely taller than Galion’s knees—and stands without fear or reverence, like no other Woodland citizen would dare. </p><p>He boldly asks, “Where do babies come from?”</p><p>Thranduil coolly stares back at him. Legolas intently holds that gaze. Galion tries very hard not to melt through the floor. He still isn’t sure he made the right decision by passing such an awkward question onto his king, shirking the duty himself—he can only pray he isn’t punished for his insolence. </p><p>Then Thranduil smoothly counters, “Where were you before you came here?”</p><p>Galion’s brow furrows. Legolas blinks and tilts his head. “Before I came right here?”</p><p>“Are you asking where babies come from before my throne room?”</p><p>“No...”</p><p>“Be clear when you speak, ion nin.”</p><p>“I mean where do they come from before they are <i>here</i>, with us?”</p><p>“I have already answered that.”</p><p>No, he hasn’t. But Galion isn’t foolish enough to challenge his king’s word. Looking utterly baffled, Legolas stumbles over, “But... but I do not remember a place before this forest.”</p><p>Thranduil rolls his shoulders. “Well, that sounds like it is your problem, little leaf.” The arm holding the wine glass lifts, and Thranduil swirls the amber liquid around his cup before lifting it to his lips. He seems to be done with the conversation.</p><p>In his short life, Legolas has proven far braver and more obstinate than all his peers. He squints at his father and presses, “Well, where did you come from, Ada?”</p><p>“Certainly not the same place as you, I assure you.”</p><p>He must mean Legolas’ grandmother as opposed to Legolas’ mother. Wrinkling his nose, Legolas tilts his head up toward Galion, but Galion doesn’t feel in any position to clarify. Legolas asks, “Where did you come from?” </p><p>Perhaps, given Thranduil’s answer, Galion should say: <i>my mother’s womb</i>, but instead he weakly offers, “Here?”</p><p>Legolas’ whole face scrunches up with his dissatisfaction. But he does tilt his head to the ceiling, eyeing the sprawling roots and branches of many ancient, interlocked trees, as though he expects babies to start popping out of the trunks. Thranduil lets his staff rest against the side of his throne and uses his newly freed hand to wave aimlessly at them. “I am afraid that is all I have time for, little leaf. The captain of the patrol will be arriving shortly. Behave well in your absence.”</p><p>Legolas opens his mouth, clearly about to argue, but Galion knows a dismissal when he hears one. He collects Legolas’ hand again and gives it a little tug towards the exit. Dreadfully uninformed and pouting adorably, Legolas goes with him.</p>
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